


Dead Man Walking

by Taliya



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Action/Adventure, Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Identity Reveal, Mistaken Identity, Prophecy, Self-Sacrifice, Suicide, Suicide Notes, Terminal Illnesses, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliya/pseuds/Taliya
Summary: It was a prophecy averted and a victory secured, but success had never tasted so clearly of ashes in his mouth.  Taking down the Organization was not worth the cost of Kaitou KID’s life—his, perhaps, as this had very much been his fight; he had been willing to gamble everything for that goal.  KID had never been part of that gamble.  Character death.  Rated for violence and language.
Relationships: Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan & Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Dead Man Walking

**Author's Note:**

> _Detective Conan_ and _Magic Kaito_ characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.
> 
> \---
> 
> Warnings: Major character death, planned suicide, violence, blood, language

_“When the 20,000 th song is sung from the historic tower whence it carries, the demon of light will fly from the east and strike down the sinner in white, for whom the bell tolls disaster.”_

_-Koizumi Akako_

\---

Everything _ached_.

Joints, abdomen, chest, head—all of it. Nineteen-year-old Kuroba Kaito panted heavily as he leaned on the seat of the commode, lips and chin glistening with clear stomach bile. He had been feeling like shit for the past year and a half—flu-like symptoms that he normally would have passed off as such, had it not been for the addition of jaundice. A quick visit to a local clinic had all but confirmed what he had feared, and he had then continually masked the signs of his illness with medication, makeup, eyedrops, and stimulants.

The timing had been too coincidental. A gunshot wound, splashes of blood not his own, broken samples of various biological hazards.

Hepatitis B, he had been told. That alone might have been treatable. But what was not—was when it was paired with Hepatitis D.

_How fortuitous, that I got both at the same time. Guess that’s karmic retribution for all those years of thievery and trespassing._

He dragged himself back to his bedroom and bed, blinking blearily at the folded square of paper that lay neatly on his pillow. He allowed himself to collapse onto the duvet, and wearily unfolded the note.

_The demon of light chances being vanquished within a fortnight, and along with it any hope of finding the source of eternity._

There was no name of a sender. Kaito did not need one to know who had given him the warning, though the question of why she had bothered to forward something of this nature set his mind abuzz. He had no idea what her motivation was. Would she demand payment? He did not have much in the way of material goods or money, and there was no way he could hand over his heart—like his feelings were something he could even pretend to control. He shivered at the idea of handing over his body—no, best not think about the things he did not know.

Focus.

What he _did_ know was that there was a sting operation in the works, one set to go down exactly ten days from now. And he knew that he needed to be in on it in order to prevent the one foretold death that would help him with an operation of his own.

_Kaa-san, Oyaji, I’ll see you both soon. I promise._

Biting back a groan, he heaved himself off his bed and ignored his nausea and the constant low-grade fever that kept him continually weakened and shivering. There was preparation work to be done, his inevitable liver failure be damned.

\---

Everything _ached_.

For nearly a month now, a secretly-returned nineteen-year-old Kudou Shinichi had been eyeballs-deep in the planning of storming one of the Organization’s main hideouts with the help of various international intelligence agencies. Despite having been restored to his teenaged-body for almost two months, Shinichi still felt phantom aches all over as his mind and body readjusted to the size, the hormones, the… well, _everything_. It meant that he was almost in constant pain from one thing or another, but had resolved to tough it out without the use of prescription painkillers.

Slightly limping now from his walk from Beika Station, he let himself into the home of his first childhood, leaning heavily on the door to take some of his weight off his left knee. It throbbed mercilessly, and he hop-shuffled to both divest himself of his street shoes and slide into his house slippers. He hobbled towards the kitchen, making himself a cup of tea that he carefully carried into the library, along with a bottle of ibuprofen, an ice pack, and a hand towel. His intent for the rest of the afternoon was to ice his knee, drink tea, and reread _The Five Orange Pips_ as a means to relax before the sting operation that was to happen that evening.

He had just managed to wash the two caplets down and settle the wrapped ice pack around his knee when a pair of gloved hands seized his head: one closed tightly around his nose and mouth with a cloth that smelled sickly-sweet of chloroform, and the other went across his forehead, pressing his cranium into the backrest of the sofa he was on. He struggled, holding his breath as he desperately pried at the fingers holding his airways hostage, but fatigue from the day’s work combined with the relative weakness of his newly-returned body left him at a severe disadvantage.

“Calm down,” murmured a soft voice from somewhere above and behind him, “you’re safe.”

It was a voice he recognized, and had he not been in the throes of panicking, he might have actually been able to identify the speaker. It was a voice that he associated with _safety_ despite all current pointers to the contrary—a voice that he associated with adrenaline-filled highs, battles of wit, competitions of sheer tenacity, and beating impossible odds.

As a result, he involuntarily inhaled, feeling the dizzying effects of the drug almost immediately. “No…” he slurred, frantically resisting the pull of unconsciousness. “No…”

“Hush, Meitantei,” said the voice, quiet, reassuring, steady, and yet as if from a distance underwater. “You’ll be safe this way. You aren’t allowed to die just yet. The world still needs you around for a while more.”

“Please…” he breathed in one last, desperate struggle for coherence, “… why…?” He sank into the silence of unconsciousness a moment later.

\---

Striding into the base of operations, he noted how several international intelligence agencies were in attendance. Reading through all of the notes Kudou had kept on his laptop, Kaito was fairly well prepared to meet with all of these people who had an interest in his capture as Kaitou KID. Yet he was able to waltz in as if he was one of them, disguised as he was as the Modern-Day Holmes himself.

Kaito barely suppressed the urge to puke, discretely wiping off the sheen of sweat he could feel forming on his brow. He thanked his own foresight for spritzing a layer of setting spray over his makeup to ensure that it would not be wiped off. The jaundice from his ailing liver was very noticeable at this point, and Kaito needed to cover every bit of exposed skin to hide this fact.

He had also ended up purchasing a pair of custom-made sclera contact lenses months back that would mask the deepening yellowing of the whites of his eyes. They were hideously uncomfortable and had made him tear up uncontrollably when he had first begun wearing them. Kaito had forced himself to become accustomed to wearing them, and now they no longer bothered him. It further ensured that no one would know about his illness from appearances alone.

“Hey there, Cool Kid,” Jodie Starling greeted, clothed heavily in Kevlar.

“Jodie-sousakan,” he replied with hidden amusement at the sheer irony of her nickname for the detective, nodding back at Akai Shuuichi’s silent greeting. He spotted Furuya Rei—PSB, Chiyoda Division, and Hondou Hidemi—American CIA, focused on their own preparations with their own teams. “Any sets for me?”

The blonde pointed to a set of riot gear hanging on a coatrack in a corner of the large room they were gathered in. “All yours.”

Kaito grinned and began strapping himself into the heavy protective gear. Several times he called out for help with a strap that was in an awkward location. His own trained flexibility would normally have allowed him to do all of it himself, but as far as he knew, Kudou was nowhere near as limber as himself, and thus he had to restrict his range of mobility.

“Thanks,” he said to Akai—right before his stomach lurched, and Kaito barely managed to nab a nearby trash bin before he vomited.

Starling approached and soothingly rubbed his back, though he could barely tell due to the Kevlar. “You okay?” she asked, concerned.

“Nerves,” Kaito coughed in reply as he weakly smiled in thanks at the tissues Andre Camel offered. He wiped off the lower half of his face, swigging and spitting out a mouthful of bottled water that Starling had brought with her.

“Happens to the best of us,” James Black commented, “I remember I did the same on my first sting op.”

Kaito sighed in silent relief as the rest of them chuckled. His illness meant that his stomach was constantly roiling, but at least for now he could chalk it up to being a newbie.

Besides—he would not have to put up with it for much longer.

\---

Having been under the influence of chloroform repeatedly—and did _that_ not say something about his lifestyle?—Shinichi had expected to simply wake up after an unaccounted period of simple blackness that had passed while he was unconscious. This time, however, was different.

This time, Shinichi dreamed… or at least, he thought he was dreaming.

The unending whiteness of his surroundings confused him, featureless blankness for as far as the eye could see. The detective picked a direction and began walking, hoping that somehow he would be able to figure out where he was.

“Fate does not like being subverted,” came a solemn feminine voice that drifted all around him. Shinichi spun, muscles tense and eyes shifting everywhere to find the speaker. “And yet he would challenge the gods for you.”

“Who are you?” he called out, knowing that he had spun more than a full three-hundred sixty degrees, and yet not knowing if he was facing the direction that he had first been to begin with. “And who is he?”

A young woman materialized before him, as though a fog had cleared from around her. She was dressed in a rather exposing Middle Eastern-themed outfit of black, red, and gold. She was aesthetically beautiful, with long mahogany hair and burgundy eyes. “Lucifer told me you were to die today,” she said in lieu of answering his questions.

“I—” Shinichi began, his thoughts completely derailing a moment later. _“What?”_

“I have long observed the bond the two of you share, and that was the only reason I passed on Lucifer’s warning,” she said, and there was a mix of jealousy, resentment, fury, and some unfathomable sadness that glimmered in her eyes. “He would have been devastated by your passing.”

Shinichi’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Who…?”

“And yet…” she continued, the utter desolation in her eyes overtaking the tone of her voice, “it is so very like him to offer himself up as sacrifice in your stead.” Her gaze went from soft to pointed in the space of a breath. “Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am speaking of.”

“I…” Cue for more befuddlement.

Cool anger now burned low in her stare. “Tell me,” she hissed, “who is the one that could _literally_ be you if he so chose?”

And like a final puzzle piece clicking into place, Shinichi murmured, “… KID…?”

The woman’s glare only hardened. “Then you know what he plans to do.”

“Then that was why he knocked me out…?” Shinichi gasped as realization slammed into him.

“Yes. But unlike you, who has a marginal chance of survival on this day,” she said, and Shinichi felt dread curl like a leaden snake in his gut, “his fate is sealed.”

\---

The riot gear was heavy, and several times Kaito had to lock his knees to keep them from buckling beneath him as they walked out towards the transport vehicles. The P226 was like a stone tied about his shoulder. He was thankful that the handgun was all they had given him; all of the members of the SAT carried not only P9s as their sidearm, but MP5s as their primary.

Kaito was uncomfortable with having a lethal weapon on his person. Though he knew that KID’s card gun definitely could be considered a lethal weapon, he had chosen not to wield it as such. Kaito had practiced often enough with a handgun, and he was more than comfortable handling one. But those times had been in shooting ranges, where people stood in separated stalls and aimed at nothing more dangerous than paper targets.

This situation was as far from a shooting range as one could get. He was going into a live firefight with an actual gun, and he had been told it was fine if he aimed to kill. Everyone involved understood that if possible, immobilization was preferable, but knowing that their enemy would show them no mercy meant the use of deadly force was acceptable. It made Kaito feel sick, and he thickly swallowed as his stomach rolled.

“You sure you’re okay?” Camel asked, “You look a little green.”

 _And that’s… actually kind of impressive, considering the amount of foundation and concealer I have on to hide my jaundice._ Kaito wanly smiled. “I’m fine, Camel-sousakan. Just nervous.”

Kaito allowed himself to fade within the steady chatter around him as the truck jostled them on the way to their destination. There would be bloodshed tonight—and lots of it. Considering that he was a carrier of both the Hepatitis B and D strains, he needed to ensure that absolutely _no one_ came into contact with his own blood.

He glanced around the truck, studying the grim but slightly-forcefully-cheery faces around him. Everyone had been separated into units of ten, and he was part of the team that included all of the Americans taking part in the raid. He would need to somehow separate himself from them, preferably in such a manner that it would not seem suspicious.

The waterproof sheet of paper with a taped magnet to the corner that he had folded into an exterior pocket felt as though it weighed substantially more than it actually did. Kaito only prayed that before he died, he would have enough time to pull it out and attach it to his chest, which he had slipped a twin magnet into a different pocket. It would give everyone present a brief explanation to not mourn Kudou Shinichi’s passing, as well as warn them from coming into contact with his blood.

Kaito sighed, seeing how much the people here cared about the detective. He felt terrible for his deception, but he also knew that they would get over it once the detective showed up in the flesh. Too bad they did not know that at the moment Shinichi was not _actually_ Shinichi, because with regards to _this_ _particular_ Shinichi…

Shinichi is a dead man walking.

\---

“KID is a dead man walking.”

“No…” Shinichi shook his head at the woman. “I refused to believe that! Wake me up then! Why keep me here when I can do something to prevent him from dying?” Anger welled up in his chest, and he felt impotent rage at this female who only foretold the death of someone he considered a friend.

There was anger in her gaze, but there was also pity. “There is nothing you can do, Kudou Shinichi.” There was also that nameless sadness as well. “How can you save someone when their very flesh rebels against them?”

And Shinichi suddenly realized what that emotion was. _Grief._ He felt suddenly faint. He did not want to ask, did not want to know the answer—and yet his damnable curiosity drove him on. “What—what is he sick with?” he whispered.

“I know not specifically what malady he has been inflicted with,” she answered with a slight shake of her head, “only that he is on his very last legs. On his own, he would last perhaps at most half a year more.”

“Can’t he find treatment?” he asked, feeling as though he had been sucker punched to the chest.

“His reasons are his own. He declined my offer of assistance.” She shuffled and dropped her gaze, discomfort radiating from her body language. “I don’t… I don’t want him to die,” she quietly confessed, and Shinichi could see that it had cost her much to admit such a thing.

“But…” he began, hesitant to press onward, “why did he refuse?”

“He and I…” she said haltingly, “we are natural enemies. My very blood yearns to destroy him, and yet I do not wish to see him ended.”

Shinichi could feel an eyebrow twitch at the supremely unsatisfactory explanation. “That… makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.”

The glare she leveled at him was scorching. “Kaitou KID is a magician, a simple trickster, a paltry illusionist. I—I am a witch, borne from a line of the strongest Red Witches to grace this planet.”

There was a depth and strength and agelessness to her voice that suddenly made Shinichi feel acutely wary of the woman before him. And yet he still was unable to comprehend the significance of what she had just proclaimed. “So…?” he needled with a raised brow in skepticism.

“Kaitou KID’s death would ensure the way of things remained in balance,” she said loftily, her bearing transforming from a defensive teenager into one of a disdainful queen. “Whether he lives or dies will not be on my conscience.”

“Liar!” Shinichi unthinkingly snapped back, anger flaring up in him at her perceived nonchalance. “You would too care if he lived or died! The fact that you are here despite claiming you are his enemy only proves it!”

That same grief from earlier flashed across her expression before it was smothered beneath haughty arrogance and self-righteousness. “One way or another, he must die!” she shouted, her entire form trembling with her forced belief. “He _must_ die,” she stated quietly, purposefully, as her hand shook in clenched fists, “so that he may never give me cause to cry again.”

\---

Infiltrating the target location had been somewhat anticlimactic. They were out in the seaside warehouse district in Kawasaki, halfway between Tokyo and Yokohama, and the Organization owned all of the property on the little manmade islet that sat on the landside edge of the Tanabe Waterway. There had been no guards—nothing like how those Hollywood spy movies made secret headquarters out to be. Kaito and his team moved in with silent efficiency, Akai having departed on his own to set up his own position as sniper.

They had been ordered to enter through the northern entrance of what had been dubbed “Warehouse Zeta”. The Organization owned the entire cluster of seventeen warehouses—and out of all of those, there had to be at least one that housed the laboratory from which the infamous Apoptoxin 4869 had come out of. Kaito had done his own canvasing and had identified the location of the warehouse that housed the laboratory. He was all for completely destroying that lab—was determined to do that, if nothing else. There were too many similarities to his own merry band of black-clad idiots looking for methods to live forever for him to be comfortable with it surviving.

He eyed his team, specifically Starling and Camel. The two of them would pose the biggest problem to him slipping away from the rest. What he needed was a distraction…

Gunfire instinctively had him ducking for cover despite the way it made his insides roil, and he felt his heart seize for a moment upon seeing two of his teammates dead on the ground. However, he had no time to mourn because whoever was shooting at them was intent on clipping the corner of the shipping crate he was hiding behind, and Kaito was not about to allow others on his team to die.

Crouching, he pivoted around the corner and fired, his aim true. His shot nailed one man in the leg, downing him, but his three other associates were quick to fire back. Kaito zigzagged along the hallway to make himself a less easy target as he ran towards them, ignoring the shouts of dismay from his teammates. It was foolish and it was risky, but he needed to clear a path for himself that he would be sure none would be able to follow. He ricocheted over the heads of two of his opponents, someone on his side having immobilized a second person.

 _“Kudou-kun, get back here!”_ Starling’s voice snapped through the earpiece every participating member of law enforcement was wearing as part of the uniform.

“Sorry, Jodie-sousakan,” Kaito panted as he turned a corner and ran, “there’s something I need to do.” And so saying, he reached down to the connected radio pack on his waist and flipped his microphone switch to “Mute”. Angry and anxious chatter regarding his whereabouts flooded his ear, but Kaito studiously ignored it in favor of searching for that laboratory, taking out Organization grunts as he conducted his search.

Kaito darted into one of the many alleys that connected the collection of warehouses together after determining the laboratory was not in the one he had infiltrated, careful to stay out of sight from where he knew Akai was positioned at. He flipped between channel frequencies, listening in on the other teams’ progresses. It seemed none of them had found a laboratory, and he mentally crossed out eight of the seventeen warehouses. His skills as a phantom thief came in handy, as he was able to mostly ghost quickly and silently through the various warehouses without engaging the men and women in black who were on patrol.

He was in Warehouse Xi when he found it. A veritable, clichéd biochemical laboratory greeted him upon squeezing his way past the once-locked door. _Jackpot,_ he thought, eyes wide as they ranged over the various chemicals and equipment. His gaze landed on the corner that housed several tall canisters of whatever, each bearing an NFPA diamond sticker composed of blue, red, yellow, and white squares. The colored squares each contained a single Roman numeral, the white sometimes a symbol or a handful of Roman letters.

Kaito’s eyes fell upon one that read 3-4-0 across the blue, red, and yellow squares, along with the English words, “HYDROGEN GAS” written above the diamond, and he grinned.

_Let’s light this motherfucker up for the world to see, ne, Meitantei?_

\---

It took him a moment to fully process that last statement. “ _That_ ,” he flatly stated, a snarl of disgust curling his lips, “is the most _ass-backwards_ logic I have _ever_ heard. You seriously _believe_ the statement that just left your mouth?”

The woman’s gaze turned flinty. “Believe what you want,” she said icily, “but that man will _not_ —will _never_ —make me cry.”

“Whatever,” Shinichi snorted flippantly, unable to comprehend the sheer ridiculousness that this woman represented. “I need to go. Send me back.”

“You will leave when the chloroform in your body has been metabolized,” she said, her tone booking no argument. “No sooner, no later.”

Frustration at the woman before him and vexation at her indifference to his situation had him spitting a rude, “ _Fuck_ you,” before his brain could filter his mouth. Shinichi immediately flushed, mortified that he could and would say something like that to a female, but unwilling to apologize because he simply could not abide by her willingness to let KID die.

She smirked, and the glint in her reddish gaze caused his metaphorical hackles to rise. “You would have to pay me quite a bit to even be considered for that privilege,” she intoned as she gave him a slow once-over, and her expression afterwards indicated that she found him distinctly lacking. It had him grinding his teeth, for whatever reason. “And somehow I do not believe one Mouri Ran would be all too pleased with you for it—even if you _could_ afford it.”

A torrent of emotions swamped the detective; outrage, anger, and confusion chief among them as he clenched his fists in his mixture of impotent feelings. _Afford! As if—wait, what—Ran—?_

The woman glanced up abruptly, as if hearing a signal that only she could sense before setting her unsettling maroon upon him once more. “Our time together is up. Goodbye, Kudou Shinichi,” she said as she began to fade into the mists.

“Wait!” Shinichi cried, reaching out as he began to run towards her, chasing her.

She remained out of reach, somehow moving faster than him despite that fact that she stood still. As she faded from sight, she commanded with surprising gentleness, “Don’t let KID’s sacrifice be in vain.”

Shinichi slowed to a halt in the featureless whiteness, alone once more as a frown creased his brows. _Who the hell was she?_

It was a question that she had purposely failed to answer despite it being the first question he had asked. Was she someone KID knew from his line of work? Was she an enemy? It certainly appeared so, considering her seeming disregard for the phantom thief’s continued survival and her blatant statements. But the fact that she also seemed to care for the magician’s welfare made her more than just a simple enemy. Rival? Friend?

And what was with all that talk about making her cry? It was nonsensical—people cried all the time, and for a variety of reasons. KID certainly did not seem to be the kind of person that went out of his way to make people cry—unless they were either members of law enforcement or other criminals with honestly malicious intentions. And even then, it was usually out of sheer frustration—with some rage mingled in for good measure—in both instances. Gratefulness, perhaps, whenever he managed to help Shinichi keep hostages and innocents from dying. With that being the case, where, then, did she fall in the spectrum of innocent and enemy?

_Who was she to KID?_

_And who was KID to her?_

\---

“BOMB IN WAREHOUSE XI!” Kaito screamed into the earpiece as he hightailed it from the lab, flipping the radio channel to one that would broadcast to everyone, “LESS THAN A MINUTE TO DETONATION! SURROUNDING TEAMS PREPARE FOR IMPACT!” He headed towards the waterfront, deciding to take his chances with the _finny things_ if it meant a softer landing.

The ignition spark he had jury-rigged gave him a minute to evacuate, and he sprinted for all he was worth—which… was not really much. Having spent most of his energy escaping the watchful eyes of his team and searching for the laboratory, Kaito shuffle-jogged as best he could, breaths labored and stomach churning. Honestly, he felt like he was about to tip over, and only the fact that he was moving forwards at a fast-enough pace to offset his keeling was the reason he was still on his feet.

Kaito spun as the scent of scorched flesh registered in his nose and pain exploded from his side. He tripped and fell on his back, seeing stars as his head collided with unforgiving concrete. A hand shakily pressed into his right side, the tactical glove coming away gleaming and sticky in the ambient light pollution.

“I thought I’d killed you,” came a cool voice from a side alley, and Kaito looked up to find a tall, silver-haired man emerging from the gloom, handgun pointed directly at him. Those merciless black eyes sent shivers down his spine, and he knew without a doubt that this man would be his end. “And yet here you are, _Kudou Shinichi_.”

“How very nice to see you again, _Gin_ ,” Kaito panted in sarcastic reply, and it was a battle not to let the weariness he felt in his very bones show in his voice. “Hopefully the next time I see you will be when you are behind bars.”

The assassin snorted. “I don’t expect to see you ever again.” Gin’s eyes gleamed as he grinned savagely, eagerly. “Goodbye, detec—”

The world went white in a wave of intense light and concussive pressure that both blinded and deafened Kaito. He felt himself being lifted off the ground from the force of the explosion, a moment of airborne weightlessness, before he smashed unforgivingly into the corner of another warehouse.

If Kaito screamed as the edge of the building snapped his back and ruptured his internal organs, he never heard as the blast had blown both of his eardrums. But in the flickering firelight of the resultant flames, he spotted Gin lying among the wreckage, a large piece of shrapnel protruding from his chest. He was dead.

 _Good riddance,_ Kaito thought woozily as he laid his head down against his broken arm and coughed up blood. There was a high-pitched whine in the otherwise absolute silence in his head, and it fleetingly disturbed him that he could not hear the crackle and roar of the fire that he could clearly see some distance away. _Damn, I flew far._

Breathing hurt. He had no doubts that he had broken ribs, and probably punctured at least one lung if the rattling he felt in his chest was any indication. That and the blood. Blood was bad. _Ah, I am going to die,_ he thought, and though there was fear in the idea, there was peace too.

_I’ve helped. I’ve helped expose the Organization Meitantei has been after for so long. I’ve made my death useful. I’m… I’m glad. Also, I can’t feel my legs anymore. Oh well._

He used all of his remaining will power to pry the prewritten note from the pocket, the magnet instantly attracted to its mate and snapping the paper onto his chest. _There. Now everyone will be safe from me._

His eyelids had never felt heavier. Kaito instinctively knew that his time was up, and his gaze turned up to the heavens as he struggled to breathe. _Kaa-san, Oyaji, I’m coming._ Kuroba Kaito would be dead soon, but for now he was still alive.

Everything _ached_.

\---

He stared at the body that lay on the stainless-steel table, stared at the face with a likeness almost identical to his own. Aside from the abnormal yellow coloration and paleness of the skin and the absolute stillness of the body, one could have mistaken the man lying there to be in a deep slumber instead of being simply _gone_.

The moment Shinichi had woken up, he had nearly face-planted on the rug in his haste to make his way to the operations headquarters. It was how he noticed two items sitting on the coffee table: a folded letter and a canister of now-empty sleeping gas. Shinichi had snatched the note up and read it, collapsing back onto the couch about halfway through as he gritted his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes. Upon finishing, he read through it once more, wiping his eyes and doing his best to avoid crinkling up the paper due to the fact that he reflexively wanted to ball his hands into fists.

“Even if he is dead, I am going to resurrect him and fucking kill him again myself,” he snarled furiously as he grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys. He had dialed Jodie as he scrambled out the back door and nearly brained himself on the door of his car when she picked up and greeted him with a choked, _”… Kudou-kun…?”_

“Jodie-sensei!” he said, panicking at her tone, “What happened?”

 _“I…”_ she breathed, her breath audibly hitching over the line, _“We found someone dead who we thought was you…”_

Shinichi blinked, stunned. “I— _what?!_ ” he yelped.

There was a distinct tremble in the American woman’s voice as she asked, _“Where are you?”_

“I’m leaving my house right now,” he replied as he started the engine and backed out of the driveway. “I was knocked out around three in the afternoon.”

 _“Who…”_ her voice was so very faint. _“Who was_ he _…?”_

Shinichi made his way through the neighborhood, barely keeping with the speed limits in case there happened to be late-night pedestrians about. He chose not to answer, and instead asked, “Jodie-sensei, where are you?”

_“I’m… We’re all at police headquarters.”_

“I’ll be there in twenty,” he vowed, and broke several speed limits in his need to reach his destination.

Everything had been something of a blur once he reached the station. There had been many exclamations of surprise—along with fright—and he had needed to repeatedly explain that no, he was not dead, and no, he had no idea who his impostor was. He attended the post-mortem meeting that detailed everything each team had done, but not a single person who had participated in the raid had claimed responsibility for the explosion.

There had been much discussion between everyone involved, though only Shinichi knew the truth. KID had blown the laboratory up, and something told him that the phantom thief had done so as a means to not only apologize to Shinichi for taking his spot in the sting, but to also acknowledge that he understood what the lab had meant to the detective. 

Shinichi had quietly left the conference room after the salient facts had all been laid out and the room had descended into individual debates. It was how he found himself here, in the quietness of the morgue staring at the cold body of what used to be the illusive Kaitou KID, and he wished with all his being that things had happened differently.

He stood there until his limbs were numbed from the cold and his lips had taken on a bluish hue before the coroner noticed him from her office and chivvied him out with a cup of terrible coffee and a blanket to warm himself back up. As he sat thawing himself out to the sensation of pins and needles, Kudou Shinichi struggled to contain his grief for a person he had considered a friend despite having never known his name until tonight.

Everything _ached_.

\---

_To my brilliant Meitantei,_

_By the time you read this letter, the sting operation that you had so meticulously planned will have already occurred. While I have no means of predicting the future, I imagine that anything with any of your insight in the planning process will be a resounding success. It had never been my intention to rob you of the chance to get back at the ones who had tormented you for three long years. It was, however, my intention to ensure your safety and continued survival—your wellbeing ensures that perhaps one day, the ones who were after me will be brought to light in the same manner that you have brought about yours._

_I am not the first to don the monocle of Kaitou KID; that particular honor went to my father, whom you once knew as Kuroba Touichi. My father took up the occupation of phantom thief as a means of combating an organization cloaked in secrecy and obsessed with the concept of immortality. After rebuffing their overtures to help them find a gem known as ‘Pandora’, they instead murdered him. I was sixteen when I discovered the truth behind my father’s death, and since then I have taken up his crusade of finding this gem before they do with the intention of destroying it._

_However, with the writing of this letter, my quest to do so has come to a very abrupt end—I am in no condition to fulfill what my father began, nor will I ever be. I took your place in the sting operation tonight because I received a prophecy about two weeks ago predicting your death. It told me that you would likely die within two weeks, and that should you die, my own quest was null and void. Considering that I know for a fact that I will be dead within the next few months or so, no persuasion was required to get me to swap out with you for the sting operation._

_And so you know just why it was so easy for me to exchange my life for yours, I have no living relatives left and was diagnosed with Hepatitis D a while ago. Yes, a liver transplant would probably keep me alive, but—well, phantom thievery is not a very lucrative profession and there is no way a college student would have been able to afford surgery, a stay in the hospital, and the follow-up medication, insurance be damned. Yes, I leave behind friends that I care for as much as my own blood, but to me, being KID and finding those men means so much more to me than continuing to live while knowing they are still somewhere out there, destroying the lives of others._

_Don’t feel bad, Meitantei. I knew that death was a distinct possibility when I took up becoming a phantom thief, and I do not regret it one bit if it meant that I was that much closer to exposing the ones who murdered my father. If you would be so kind as to grant the wish of a dying man, then here is my wish: I wish for you, Kudou Shinichi, to find the men that killed my father—expose them and incarcerate them—and to destroy Pandora. I know that you understand all too well the dangers the lure of immortality poses, and I know with absolute certainty that you can be trusted to fulfill the task I have failed._

_I leave to you the fruits of all of my research and labor, which may be found inside my home in Ekoda. On the desk in my bedroom will be a coded sheet of instructions on how to access all of that material, and it will be yours to do as you wish. I also leave to you the option of exposing my name, as I never intended to have a successor to the Kaitou KID mantle._

_I have nothing but the utmost faith in you, Meitantei, and will be watching from beyond and praying for your success in whatever you choose to do._

_Best wishes,_

_Kaitou KID, also known as Kuroba Kaito_

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: … and I killed Kaito… again. This work was inspired by a Fullmetal Alchemist piece entitled, _Some Sacrifices_ by YAJJ (FFN/AO3)… and now that I think about it, is sort of a twist on my own work, _Without Fanfare_ , while being written in the same style as _Search and Recovery_ and _Recompense_. I… uh… didn’t expect Akako to get so involved, but I guess _feelings_ kind of took over here, and I definitely did not see a full-on Shinichi-Akako confrontation coming either. Hepatitis B is an infectious viral disease that destroys liver function, but it is treatable. Hepatitis D is a different strain of the Hepatitis virus that requires a previous or simultaneous infection of Hepatitis B—and unlike Hep B, Hep D is untreatable. Liver transplants are largely successful, but based on my research, the wait for a matching donor is usually what ends up killing the patient. Sclera contact lenses are special effects lenses that cover the entire visible portion of the eye as opposed to just the colored iris. “-sousakan” is a suffix that translates to “investigator”. P226 is a Sig Sauer handgun favored by most militaries. P9 and MP5 are made by Heckler & Koch, and are a handgun and submachine gun, respectively. SAT refers to the Japanese Special Assault Team. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> \---
> 
> Completed: 11.05.2020


End file.
